


Imposter

by rinnwrites



Series: Little Toy Guns (Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Comfort/Angst, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), soft babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 19:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites/pseuds/rinnwrites
Summary: A vignette of Sam and Bucky coming to terms with the endgame.orBucky Barnes Bingo - B3: Captain America





	Imposter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rudearrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudearrow/gifts), [Faustess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faustess/gifts).



> Ru, Faust, you deserve more from me but pls take my meager Winterfalcon offerings in exchange for the love of this ship that you've given me <3

It was surreal, seeing the shield like this. 

Sure, Sam had seen it lying around in the quinjet, dive motels, abandoned buildings, any of the temporary safe spaces he’d shared with Steve for those short years, always on the move - staying on the run for fear that they’d be caught, imprisoned, killed.

That seemed worlds away now. 

In a way, maybe it was. 

Things had changed, and while it was no time at all for Sam,  _ years _ had passed for his world. Years with billions of people missing from the planet, years for it to fall into disarray as those left behind struggled to pick up the pieces. 

Maybe that was supposed to be a little easier now, with so many of them back. 

It was  _ supposed _ to be, but it wasn’t. People struggled to find their loved ones, to reconcile the gaps in time between them, to get back the undefinable things they had lost.

And then there were the people that Thanos’s destruction had killed indirectly. 

They didn’t come back.

The passengers on planes who’d died when their pilots turned to dust, the patients exposed on the table as their surgical teams vanished, the infants left behind as their parents faded away. 

Stories like those were too many to count. 

The devastation was too much to sift through, too much to fix. 

But Sam found himself trying, anyway. 

Because Steve had seen fit to give him that responsibility. 

Because that shield was propped up against the wall of his bedroom. 

Because Sam was Captain America now. 

Or he was supposed to be.

The shield was lighter than air, but the mantle that came with it? The weight of that was staggering. 

“You’re thinking too hard.”

The words startled Sam, just slightly. It used to freak him out, the way that Bucky’s breathing didn’t change between sleep and wakefulness, but now it soothed. Always steady, always constant. 

“Lots to think about.” he answered softly as his gaze fell from the shield and he shifted in bed to face Bucky, reaching a hand out to stroke his jaw for a short second before it fell to rest on his waist. 

Bucky just looked at him, the concern in his eyes more obvious than ever, a wrinkle in his brow that had Sam wanting to smooth it with his thumb. 

Sam sighed. 

“There are so many of them looking to me to fix things. To fix  _ them _ and I….I’m not him. I feel like a little kid that accidentally got elected president.” He scoffed, shaking his head as he tried to brush it all off. 

“Imposter syndrome.”

“...What?”

“You’ve got Imposter Syndrome.”

“I don’t think…” Sam shook his head, wondering where Bucky had learned that term, where he’d gotten that idea, though his hesitancy to consider the suggestion trumped his curiosity. 

Bucky sighed, sitting up against the headboard of the bed, turning his body towards Sam as he followed suit, realizing they were about to have  _ a talk. _

Those blue eyes could always see through him.

“You think….you think that you don’t deserve what you have. That you just got lucky, and that who you  _ really _ are is someone that doesn’t have the ability to live up to what the world expects from you...what you expect from yourself.”

Sam felt cold, shifting uneasily as each word rang true, and trying to distract himself with wondering  _ when _ did Bucky get so talkative? He’d always been observant, sure, but he didn’t generally spout those observations out for Sam to bristle at as he pointely looked anywhere but Bucky or that  _ damn _ shield. 

His eyes were fixated on his hands, resting in his lap now and gripping each other so tightly that it was starting to hurt, until black and gold metal fingers tugged them apart and Bucky carefully laced his fingers with Sam’s. 

When Sam managed to look into his face again, Bucky wasn’t looking back, he was wistfully gazing down at their interlocked hands. 

“There’s this man...a stranger, or maybe just a name, really. He’s who I’m supposed to be, but everyone who knows him is gone. He inspired friendship, and loyalty...they called him a hero in museums, in history books. I’ve been feeling like an imposter with his face...but Sam. That’s not what you are.”

“Bucky, you aren’t an-”

“Hey,” Bucky cut him off gently, pressing their foreheads together even as his eyes lingered on their hands, “It’s alright. I’m working through it. I just...I want you to understand...that, that you don’t have to feel that way alone? That it isn’t a  _ wrong _ thing to feel? I don’t know, that you’re valid, I guess.”

They sat for a moment, content to share time and space and the warm morning sun peeking through the window, until Sam’s eyes strayed to the shield again. 

Bucky leaned back, sighing and squeezing Sam’s hands. “You never have to carry it alone. Captain America, that inspiration, the belief, the symbol, it didn’t come from a test tube, it came from  _ Steve _ . And if he was here that punk would tell you he’d never have been able to do it without support. His team. The Commandos. The Avengers…...me. You’ve got a helluva team. Share the burden.”

Sam finally looked back at him with a soft smile, a hint of awe. 

“When did you get all wise and therapeutic, huh?”

Bucky snorted softly, pressing a sweet kiss to Sam’s lips, “fell in love with damn counselor, like an  _ idiot _ ,” he teased, pulling away and sliding off the bed to hunt down breakfast. 

He stopped at the door and glanced back at Sam who watched him fondly from the tangle of sheets that had become Bucky's safest place. "And I have the internet. So helpful."


End file.
